“Where's the 'do-funny?'”
“Say, we're going to miss it all. They've all started over there.”
A lieutenant came galloping along in front of the line, shouting:
“Here, what's the matter here? Why don't you start?”
There was a great shout. Everybody simultaneously uttered a prolonged “Oh-h.”
“We're off.”
“Here we go for sure this time.”
“Remember to keep the alignment,” roared the lieutenant. “Don't go too fast.”
And the marshals, rushing here and there on their sweating horses to points where the line bulged forward, shouted, waving their arms: “Not too fast, not too fast....Keep back here....Here, keep closer together here. Do you want to let all the rabbits run back between you?”
A great confused sound rose into the air,—the creaking of axles, the jolt of iron tires over the dry clods, the click of brittle stubble under the horses' hoofs, the barking of dogs, the shouts of conversation and laughter.